


Polyjuice: An Mpreg Story

by lovcats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, F/M, Mad Scientist, Mpreg, Polyjuice Potion, Potions, Science, Sex Change, St. Mungo's, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovcats/pseuds/lovcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is a scientist/potioneer who experiments with polyjuice potion.</p><p>Ron is an auror on an extended undercover mission involving a polyjuiced cover identity. This is, naturally, Harry's fault.</p><p>Ron's undercover identity is a young woman to whose form Hermione is not ashamed to admit she has an attraction - as long as that form is worn by her beloved Ron, anyway. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polyjuice: An Mpreg Story

Ron was unexpectedly stuck in a polyjuiced form, and he and Hermione were properly freaking out. They held hands as they sat and waited on the third floor of St. Mungo's. She nibbled one of the fingernails of her other hand. He jiggled his petite legs so restlessly that he shook her chair as well as his, but she hardly minded. 

“Auror Weasley,” the healer called, walking into the waiting room.

They shot up from their chairs and approached her. Ron shuffled in overlarge robes. He was wearing his own, hoping for a quick resolution to his problem.

“Yes?” the healer said, giving them her attention, though she didn't see her assigned patient.

“Ronald Weasley, here,” Ron told her. His polyjuiced form/undercover identity looked rather different from the Weasley family. She was short, with elegant dark hair and eyes. Ron liked looking like her, but did not fancy staying that way.

“Ah,” The healer recovered from her surprise quickly. “All right. Hello, I'm Healer Brigid Perkins.” She extended her hand for brief shakes with both of them. Addressing Hermione: “Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I presume? We here in Potions and Poisonings keep up with your work, of course. Will you follow me, please?” she said, and lead them to an exam room. 

A standard privacy charm activated when the door closed. Healer Perkins followed it up with an extra silencing spell. Patients always seemed to appreciate that. 

“I was given to understand a potion malfunction or accident brings you in today?” Perkins prompted. When neither Weasley spoke, she said, “In addition to St. Mungo's own magically enforced patient confidentiality spells, all St. Mungo's healers have a magically binding Ministry-standard security clearance for treating Aurors and anyone sent to us from the DMLE.”

They still looked uncomfortable. Perkins transfigured the hospital bed into a sofa for them, and said, “Please have a seat. Am I right in guessing this might be a long story? I'll just get the cafeteria elves to send us a tea tray, and you can start from the beginning.” The tea arrived almost immediately, Hogwarts-style, at a wordless summons from the healer.

Hermione finally obliged her, after exchanging glances with her currently small, dark-haired, female-bodied husband. “I'd been interested in polyjuice potion ever since the war,” she started. “You've read my publications in the _Journal of Advanced Potion-Making_?”

“Yes,” Healer Perkins affirmed, excitedly, “Are you, by any chance, related …”

“To Hector Dagworth-Granger?” Hermione interrupted, “No. I get that a lot, but I'm muggle-born. Anyway, I spent over a year studying the theory, transfigurational intersections, and history of polyjuice. Then, several months ago I began my experiments, which you've read about – most of my results have been published – toward understanding dosage requirements and the effects of long-term usage. We used it so much during the war, you see, we and Harry Potter. I needed to understand the repercussions. I found no ill effects until now. And Harry was excited by my findings because of this damned mission he planned …”

“Which was successful,” said Ron. 

Hermione, looking anguished, turned to him, “But at what cost?!” she protested. But she shook her head and got back to business. She handed the healer a copy of the records she had been keeping since the start of Ron's undercover work. Then she and Ron both tried to distract themselves, drinking their tea, while Healer Perkins perused the data. 

“All right,” the healer spoke as she read, “I see a pattern here in your first week, where you used the potion for 9 or 10 hours per day, starting three … Mondays ago? … and discontinued usage each evening and night …”

Ron said, “Yes. In my cover identity I got a job as an assistant to this person of interest. Those were my working hours.”

“But two weeks ago, you continued using the potion into the evening hours...”

“... yep, went to the pub with the target and coworkers after work...”

“... and stayed out all night polyjuiced as your cover identity?”

“No, we didn't stay out. I went home. Wait!” said Ron. He turned to Hermione, blushing. “You recorded the doses I took on _that_ night?”

Hermione stared at him. “Of course I did, Ron! This is important! We need all available data.” They stared at each other a little longer, as if trying to read eachother's thoughts. “Actually, I think we need to tell her _everything_. We don't know why this is happening to you, and it may make a difference!” Hermione was blushing but wore a determined expression. Ron sighed. 

“Fine, Hermione,” he said, then mumbled, almost unheard, “Gryffindor courage,” then sat up very straight and addressed the healer.

“*Ahem* All right. Well. This muggle lady Hermione found for me to polyjuice as … well, she's well fit, isn't she." He tossed his head, dark shining hair swinging prettily at his chin. "I got home from the pub with a fresh dose of the polyjuice in me, so I was stuck for at least another hour, and yeah, I was liquored up as well. I'm quite small in this form. Can't hold my alcohol like I'm used to. Of course I snogged my wife, you know, like you do. And she quite likes my lady form, I guess. I quite like it too, and I said how brilliant it was to experience … you know. *ahem* … arousal, as a woman, and one thing led to another, and it seemed she was keen to know what's it's like for blokes. So she got one of my hairs out of a hairbrush in the bathroom, and well. You know. But I'm not into blokes. But it was my own body. Er, my form, that is; and I know my way around it. And it was Hermione, and I love her, so … it wasn't weird?”

Hermione was blushing furiously but looking at Ron so fondly. Since he seemed to be finished with his account, she then verified it for the healer. “Yes. We had sexual intercourse while we were both polyjuiced. It wasn't for science, it was for fun.” She lifted her chin, in defiance of her embarrassment at her breach of scientific ethics, or something. “You'll see there in the log that Ron took at least two more doses of the potion that night, and possibly more that I may have forgotten to record. He was still in this form the next morning, and then he started his workday hourly dosage again. So, we haven't seen Ron's real form since two weeks ago Thursday morning.”

Ron whispered to her, and she hissed back, “No; seen _you_ in your form, you know what I meant.”

“And when did you take your last dose of polyjuice?” Healer Perkins asked.

“Well...” Ron was abashed. “I got quite sloppy about my doses. Hermione had seen some slight lengthening of the effect in her research on long-term usage. So I thought it was a longer version of that kind of thing, you know.”

“Wait, what?” exclaimed Hermione. “You were 'sloppy' about when and how often you took the potion?” Ron nodded. “Are you telling me that the data I logged over the past two weeks on your polyjuice usage is compromised?”

“I guess so. Er, yes,” replied Ron. “I mean, the last week of the mission I was just carrying around a dose, ready to take, if I felt myself starting to change back while undercover, but I never had to take it. Then the mission was over, and I started just waiting for the effect to wear off. It's been, like … six days since I had a dose.”

“But I thought you were dosing regularly, and thought your effect timing was in the normal range...” ranted Hermione. “I thought you were just really keen on being a girl!” 

“Well, I am, just don't want to be one non-stop or for good,” he replied. 

“That's fine, Ron, but … my data! Two weeks of bad data! And now you're stuck!” Hermione groaned, and her expression rapidly changed between looking chagrined, frightened, angry, and guilty.

Healer Perkins had dealt with many upset patients and family members, as well as a fair few intellectual prima donna scientists. She caught Hermione's eye and said, bracingly, “All right, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, we'll just have to throw out most of the data from the last two weeks, and replace it with what we do know.” She spelled the most recent log entries off the parchment, and replaced them with Ron's reported last dose, six days ago. “You've not taken the potion since six days ago, but it's possible that you might not have needed to take it to maintain your current form, even then. You said that you haven't seen his real form for over two weeks?” The Weasleys verified that. “Auror Weasley, please record for me every time you had vaginal intercourse with your wife polyjuiced as a man, and/or with any other man.”

“Only ever Hermione!” objected Ron. “Or, er, Hermione polyjuiced as me, but it was her!”

“Of course,” soothed the healer. “I'm not here to judge, only to collect facts. Record them please, every time that you are sure of. If your memory fails you, don't guess.”

Ron took the healer's proffered quill, and bent to his task. Healer Perkins cast a spell to take Ron's temperature, and found it very slightly elevated.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley,” Healer Perkins said, conjuring another scroll and quill, “Please tell me what contraceptive measures you use in your natural body, and in your polyjuiced forms.”

Hermione's face turned white. “Oh, shiiiiit,” she said, propriety forgotten. Chagrin deepened to shame and regret. “I've got a muggle implant. But polyjuiced as Ron? Nothing.” She buried her face in her hands mumbled, “I'm so thick,” and started crying. Ron dropped his quill and put his arms around her. Through her sobs he could make out the words “I'm sorry,” and “irresponsible.”

“Now, Mrs. Granger-Weasley,” said Healer Perkins kindly, “don't fret so. We don't know yet if Auror Weasley is pregnant. I'll have to run some diagnostic spells. But if that's the case, it's very good news for his prognosis!”

Ron sat bolt upright during this speech, with his jaw dropped. Hermione conjured a handkerchief, wiped her eyes and nose, and turned to watch Ron.

“Pregnant?!” he choked out.

“Unknown, I said,” replied the healer. “But it would explain your condition. May I just do the diagnostic spells, please?”

Ron nodded, and grabbed Hermione's hand, heedless of her handkerchief. They both waited breathlessly for the results, for what felt like ages. It was probably all of twenty seconds. Finally, Healer Perkins nodded and began to speak. “It appears that you are indeed pregnant, Auror Weasley. It explains why you seem to be stuck in this form. Theoretically, your magic is protecting your pregnancy by preventing your transition back to your natural form. So termination, and the hormonal changes it will bring, should permit your return to your form.”

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. “So, I could be myself again, as soon as...?” 

“Oh, no more than a few days. Before you get back to yourself, though, you will experience bleeding and cramping, similar to menstruation. Have you ever menstruated, Auror Weasley?”

“Er, no,” he said, looking a bit dazed.

“I only ask, knowing you've polyjuiced more than most people. The war, and of course being Mrs. Granger-Weasley's spouse. Did you assist her in her work? If you don't mind my asking.”

Ron nodded. Hermione was smiling through her tears. “It's not pleasant, darling, but it won't be too bad. And you may only experience it for a day or two before you snap back to yourself.” She looked at the healer for confirmation, and received a nod. “As soon as your hormone levels change enough to register that you're no longer pregnant, your magic should respond?”

“That's the idea,” confirmed Healer Perkins.

Ron smiled, reassured. “All right, there's that solved. Not being pregnant means I can be myself in my own body again. But as long as I'm pregnant I'll be in this form, because I need to be a woman. My magic is maintaining it with no potion, because it's protecting my pregnancy.” Hermione and Healer Perkins nodded along. Ron continued thinking aloud: “We terminate the pregnancy, and I flush my little eggy, or whatever, and bam – back to myself in a day or so. But, what if I want to keep it?” Ron turned to Hermione. “I know you've got your muggle contraceptive, love, and I know we're not ready. But, er … what if we were to keep it? Can I have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby? Could I go back to my own body again after that?”

Hermione looked gobsmacked. Healer Perkins smiled at them. “You know we're in uncharted waters here. But, Auror Weasley, I think the situation is theoretically the same for your return to your natural body, whether it happens now or 40-something weeks from now. Mrs. Granger-Weasley, you'd be the foremost expert on that question, actually.”

“Ron,” said Hermione. “There's your job to think of, and your identity. And, Merlin! your _undercover_ identity. And … gosh, parenthood …”

Ron was grinning widely, one of Hermione's favorite expressions on him. It looked beautiful on his own face, and it looked beautiful on his borrowed face too, with its big dark brown eyes and button nose. “All right,” said Hermione, slowly. “Erm – shall we postpone scheduling that termination, then, until we've quite, um, decided?”

“Certainly,” said the healer. “Do you have any other concerns to address while you're here?” 

The Weasleys exchanged a look, then Hermione said, “Er, no. I would like to owl you if I think of something we missed, though.” 

“Of course,” said Healer Perkins. She rose to show them out. They took their polite, if rather distracted, leave of her. As they started down the stairs, she heard the auror say to his scientist, “Think of the papers you could write about this.”


End file.
